


The Beginning of Summer

by RareRow35



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Family Drama, Foster Care, Gen, Grandpa Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), Grandparents & Grandchildren, Grief/Mourning, Platonic Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:34:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24766243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RareRow35/pseuds/RareRow35
Summary: Nobody ever expects to become an orphan at age fifteen. Nobody expects to be rescued by a space grandpa either. AU.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	1. One

"SUMMER SMITH!" 

Summer flinched at the sound of her name being called. Usually, it was only when she'd done something wrong. Mrs. Fields was not the lenient type. She ran the facility that Summer had learned to call "home" over the past few...what was it? Weeks? Months? She'd lost track. It didn't matter. 

"SUMMER SMITH!" The voice barked, growing louder. "Your presence is required downstairs---NOW!" 

Summer winced. She didn't know what she could have possibly done this time. She'd never been "grounded" so much in her life as she had when living at Mrs. Field's. There were so many rules here, rules were bound to get broken. She missed having her cell phone to keep her distracted. Most of all, she missed her parents...even her annoying younger brother, Morty….he could be a pest, but he was her brother….Now, everything was different. Nothing would be the same ever again. 

Now, she was under the "care" of Mrs. Fields, who seemed to consider Summer more as part of her property, as she did with all of the kids in her care. Not that Summer was a kid, of course; she was, in fact, one of the oldest, at age fifteen-and-a-half. Yet, Mrs. Fields didn't seem to realize this. She was always talking to Summer as if she didn't know anything. 

"SUMMER SM---"

"Here," Summer grunted as she strode briskly into the disgustingly well-kept living room. Flowers were everywhere. It was enough to make her gag, even a bit sick to her stomach a little. It made her want to run away and forget she ever existed. 

Today, however, something---or rather, someone---caught her attention: a man, sitting center stage on the floral decorated couch. He looked entirely out of place there. He did not look enthusiastic to be there; rather, he looked displeased by everything he set his eyes upon---even, it seemed, including her. 

What caught her attention was not the fact that he seemed the least likely individual to find himself in their midst. It was everything about him: from his strange spiked blue hair that almost seemed to have an otherworldly glow, to the dramatic-looking white lab coat that made her wonder if he was some sort of a doctor….was someone sick? She wondered. And if so, why was she being called there? She felt fine, as far as she knew. 

Summer tried to avoid eye contact as she sat directly opposite this unwelcome guest. She knew better than to speak before Mrs. Fields spoke first. That was Rule Number One: never speak unless spoken to. 

"Summer," Mrs. Fields addressed her in that sickening too-polite way of hers, "This is Mr. Sanchez." She smiled awkwardly at the much older man sitting across from them. Summer guessed he was probably at least eighty years old. What could he possibly want from her? "He's your grandfather," Mrs. Fields announced then, brightly, as if this was the greatest news of the century. 

Summer froze and stared at the man across from her. "My….grand….father?" Suddenly, everything seemed to blend together. Her lips felt numb. 

"Yes, that's right," Mrs. Fields nodded as simply as if they were discussing the weather. "He's come to collect you---"

"I…" Summer blinked. "I--I don't...have a grandfather…" Everything sounded far away. "My grandfather is...is...dead…." 

"I hate to break it to you, Summer." The man suddenly spoke up, addressing her by name as if they'd known each other their whole lives. His flat expression didn't change, and he looked even more displeased than before. His voice dripped with distaste, and she suddenly detested him. "I'm not dead. In fact, I'm very much alive. I'm also the man responsible for the 23 chromosomes that helped create the zygote that eventually transformed into my daughter, Beth Sanchez, aka Beth Smith, aka the woman you know as your Mom---" 

"Knew." Summer snapped, much colder than she intended. Standing, she strode slowly over to him, to where she was now taller than him. "My mother is dead. She never mentioned you once. Not. Ever." 

If her words had stung him, there was no indication. He simply blinked back at her, like some ancient turtle. 

"How did you find me?" she questioned quietly, in spite of herself. She didn't want to know, really, but she had to know more, she had to find out the truth of his existence. She was vaguely aware that Mrs. Fields had left the room to give them some privacy. It was the nicest thing she had done since Summer had come to live there. 

"Seriously?" His sarcastic tone made her hairs stand on end. "That's what you want to know---?" 

"Okay," Summer huffed, getting even more irritated, "Fine---you want to know what I want to know?" 

"That's what I already asked you, Summer." Perhaps it was the way he used her name so freely that irked her to no end, but something in Summer exploded. 

"Where the hell were you all this time!?!" Her voice rose in spite of herself. It was against the rules, but she didn't care. She needed answers---now. Here was her grandfather---when he could have rescued her from misery so many weeks before. "Do you know what I've gone through in the past few months!?! Where the hell were you!?!" She was close to tears now, and it took all of her strength to maintain her composure as best as she could. 

"Summer---" Mrs. Fields' voice, filled with a warning, broke the awkward lingering silence. "Mr. Sanchez is our guest---" 

"I never invited him!" Summer snapped, glaring down at the strangely dressed older man, who glared back silently, as if daring her to continue, which she did without hesitation. "He just shows up and---expects me to believe that he's flesh and blood!?!"

"Jesus! FINE!" The stranger jumped to his feet. "If you don't believe me Summer, tell me---why would I have this?" And with that, he produced an object that made Summer's blood freeze in her veins: it was, to her disbelief, a locket….with a picture of what looked like two different people. One was a young blond-haired girl who she didn't recognize. The other, a much older person, a female, also blonde, she did. Summer immediately froze as a shiver rose up her spine, and sent a shockwave of pain from her gut to her heart. Her mother. 

Summer felt all color drain from her face. Dazed, she turned her gaze from the picture, and stared at the man who, she knew now, had to be her grandfather. 

"Grand..pa?" Summer managed weakly….and before she could stop herself, she burst into tears and rushed at him, nearly knocking the wind out of him as she threw her arms around his neck, and began sobbing hysterically. 

"S-Summer---" She didn't realize she was pressing dangerously against his windpipe. "You're ch-choking m-me---!"

"Oh god!" She immediately withdrew, blushing profusely. "S-sorry Grandpa." She sniffled, suddenly exhausted. She reached out for the locket that he'd dropped carelessly on the couch and examined it closely. Her mother's smile….she'd almost forgotten it….

"The name's 'Rick'," he muttered, shocking her back to reality. "Not 'Grandpa', not 'Mr. Sanchez'. Just plain 'Rick'." 

"Sorry, Grandpa Rick---" 

"Just plain RICK!" His voice had risen so sharply she jumped in surprise; immediately, his expression softened considerably, though it was still locked into place. "Look...I don't like labels," he huffed. "Just plain Rick...got it?" 

Summer nodded awkwardly. "Yeah," she mumbled softly, "got it." For a moment they sat in silence, during which time she couldn't help but observe how neatly pressed his white coat was. There wasn't a stain on it. "Are you a doctor?" she asked, as politely as possible; she didn't want him to yell again and get Mrs. Fields' attention. 

"Seriously?" To her astonishment, he threw his head back and laughed. Was he laughing at her? "I'm a scientist, Kid." He nearly jabbed his thumb into his chest, however proudly. "I'm the smartest guy you'll ever meet. Ever get straight As in school? You can thank those good ol' Sanchez genes for that."

Summer was speechless. A scientist? Her mother had never mentioned anything about her father being a scientist. She didn't have the heart to tell him she'd never gotten As, let alone straight A's. She'd rarely ever gotten a B. "What kind of science?" she asked, embarrassed by the thought that she'd never be as smart as him, same DNA or not. 

"ALL kinds," he huffed, as if annoyed by the question. "Science is my bitch, Dawg!" 

Summer blinked at the words. 'Dawg'? She'd never heard anyone talk like that, except maybe that kid at school who liked to rap during study period. Definitely not an over-the-hill old guy. "My name is Summer," she declared icily. "Not 'Dawg'." She glared at him. "Anyways---what's the deal? What do you want from me? And isn't there like, a whole legal process to these things?" 

"Already handled the legal crap." He stood now, and she couldn't believe how tall he was. "Listen, kid," he said, "you're my ticket to freedom---and I'm your ticket out of here." The man who claimed to be her grandfather then, to her disbelief, gave her a knowing wink. "Trust me---you'll thank me for it," he added before she could get a word in edgewise. "Go get your shit. We're outta here." 

"To where?" Summer muttered. She knew she shouldn't complain; she wanted nothing more than to leave this place. 

"You'll see," was all he replied. "Get your shit---I'll talk to Miss Mother Hen over here." With that he shooed her in the direction of the stairs. He must have worked some kind of magic on her, because in less than ten minutes later, they were out the door. 

"Now what?" Summer muttered, looking around in confusion. "Looks like you don't even have a car." 

"Don't need one." He grinned almost wickedly at her; she shrank back, suddenly feeling a little uneasy. To her astonishment, he brought out what looked like a funny looking---GUN? 

"What are you gonna do with that?" Summer squeaked. She took a step backward. 

"You'll see." To her surprise, he whirled around and pointed the gun at empty space. What seemed like mere seconds later, what appeared to be a swirling green circle materialized out of thin air. 

"What the heck is---THAT?" Summer screeched. 

"Hush!" He grabbed her hand so abruptly she didn't have time to refuse. "This is supposed to be a covert operation. Don't fuck it up!" 

"Are you CRAZY!?!" Summer tried to pull out of his grasp, but he was much stronger than he looked. 

"Maybe I am," he grinned wildly at her. "But you'd be crazy not to come with me."

"I'd be crazy to GO with you---and I don't even know where we're going!" Summer yelled, at which point, in frustration, he slapped a hand over her mouth.

"QUIET!" he snapped. "There are far, far worse places than Earth if you get us caught." 

Summer's eyes narrowed with horror at his words, but she dared not make a sound. She knew now that she was at his mercy. Whether he was really her grandfather or not it didn't seem to matter; she was going to have to listen to him or face the consequences. 

"Come with me," he ordered, pulling her with force towards the green glowing swirl---and Summer feared that all of her nightmares were coming true.


	2. Two

It happened quickly---so quickly Summer wasn't sure what had happened at all. The next minute she knew, she was on the ground, gasping for breath. "What," she managed shakily, "the hell….was….THAT?" 

"Seriously---you don't know what a portal is?" Her grandfather---Rick---stood over her as she struggled to regain her composure. "Haven't you ever watched 'Stargate'?" 

Summer grunted. "Portals? Like---as in crazy sci-fi time traveling type stuff? Come on Grandpa---that doesn't exist." 

"It exists." He spoke as matter of factly as if they were discussing the 8 o' clock news. "I just don't take part in it." 

"Gimme a break." Summer rolled her eyes. "Also---give me a hand?" She was panting from exhaustion; she'd lost her footing when they'd both tumbled through. 

To her amazement, he continued to stand above her and, before responding, took a small sip from his flask. "Sorry," he shrugged. "I only give handjobs." 

"Gross," Summer huffed, trying not to gag at the thought as she pushed herself painfully to her feet. How did he ever get past a judge? "I don't want to think about---" She paused abruptly at the sight in front of her. 

"You're URP welcome." Her grandfather had burped some nasty substance that smelled a little too fruity for hard liquor---but Summer didn't care. She'd found herself standing in front of her old house, on her old street, in her old neighborhood. The "For Sale" sign was gone. 

"Oh...my...God…." Summer murmured. "But---how did---" 

"I'm also basically rich," he smirked, as he tossed her a set of keys. "You're welcome." 

"...you…" She was near speechless. "I can't believe this," she whispered. "You actually bought the house?" Summer stared up at the window of her bedroom that faced the street. She hadn't been back since the social worker had allowed her to collect any belongings she could stuff into a suitcase. 

"YeEUP," he belched, and Summer grimaced at the stench that filled the air. "We got ourselves a crib, bitch!" 

"Don't call me 'Bitch'," Summer snapped, though her voice was hoarse and she wasn't sure how she was talking at all. 

"Don't call me 'Grandpa'," he snorted back, "and we'll get along just fine." With that he started towards the walkway---but stopped, when he realized she wasn't following. "Hey---what's the deal?" 

"I…" Summer stared blankly up at the house. "...I can't go in," she practically whispered. 

"Why the heUCK not?" He held the door wide open for her; a familiar scent filled the air. "It's not haunted," he chided her with yet another wink---which was enough to make her skin bristle. 

"I didn't MEAN that!" Summer glowered at him. "I just…" She shuddered. "I haven't been back...since…." She looked away. 

"It's just a house Summer." Rick continued to hold the door open. "It's not gonna bite you on the ass on your way in, you dig? Don't expect any surprises beyond this door except a good long rest---and a good long beer for your good ol' grandpa." 

"You mean my good old DRUNK Grandpa," Summer snorted as she forced herself towards the entrance. 

"Hey---what did I tell you about labels?" he chided her with false annoyance, as he proceeded to shut the door behind them. "Now go get yourself unpacked. I'm gonna cook us up some grub!"

"Grub?" Summer echoed in a daze as she looked around. The house felt empty, even though all the furniture and appliances remained. The air felt stagnant. She didn't move from the foyer. She could see a picture of Morty as a baby on the wall. "What constitutes as 'grub'?"she asked suspiciously. 

"Eh," Rick shrugged half heartedly as he headed for the kitchen, "Gonna call in some coke and a pizza." 

"Master chef over here," Summer joked with mild amusement in spite of her nervousness. As he looked in the drawer for pizza menus, she slowly headed upstairs with her duffle bag. All the while, she was trying hard not to cry; her parents' door was slightly open, but she did not go in. She couldn't bring herself to do it. She also couldn't bear to take a chance with Morty's room either. She went straight to her own room, where everything was just the way it had been before….before…

Summer dropped her bag on the floor. Dropping onto her own mattress felt like the nicest thing in the world, but at the same time, she remembered the hospital bed sheets. As quickly as possible, Summer grabbed the nearest stuffed animal---a Unicorn that Morty had won for her one year at the carnival---and buried her face deep in its fur to muffle the sound of her own sobs. 

This house was full of memories, so everything felt as if it had been cursed. 

Memories where everywhere she looked. 

________________________

When she finally came downstairs, Rick had an open pizza box on the table, already having worked halfway through on his own. "Get it while it's hot," he belched groggily in her direction. She noted there were several empty beer cans strewn about the room. 

"How drunk ARE you?" she questioned as she began picking up the empty bottles. 

"Drunk enough." To her amazement, he threw his head back and cackled mirthfully. 

"How are you even a scientist?" she muttered as she plopped down on the couch beside him. "You reek of alcohol. How do you even get anything done?" 

"Told you," he slurred, "I'm a ge-genius, SUMmer." He tapped his own head and winked at her again. (It made her want to slap him, but she didn't dare.) "Remember that, that portal gun I used back there?"

Summer rolled her eyes. "Yeah sure. Portal gun." 

"I CREATED-ed it," he grinned almost devilishly at her. 

"Yeah right," Summer snickered. Him? A portal gun? 

"And you know what else?" 

"What?" Summer suddenly felt like she was chatting with a little kid. 

"I made a-a-a-a---" He paused to belch again, and Summer grimaced. "I made a spaceship!" Rick whispered in her ear. The stench from his breath was nearly overwhelming, and she tried hard not to gag. 

"Really Grandpa?" Summer groaned in disbelief. "A space ship? Now you're really pulling my chains." 

"If you don't URP believe me," Rick declared as he waved her in his direction, "Follow me to the URP gar-garage." With that he proceeded to stumble drunkenly out of the room. 

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Summer muttered under her breath as she proceeded to follow him down the hall, more with the intent of humoring him more than anything else. She was now under the care of an old man who was delusional. 

And then, it happened---the unimaginable. 

Summer opened the door to the family garage. 

And there, sitting with the sun glinting off the glass, was a dome-shaped spaceship. 

"Ho-ly shit." Summer didn't know what else to say. "It's a fucking spaceship." 

"Boo-yah." Rick sneered, leaning against the chrome siding and taking a victory drink. 

"How the hell did you pull this off…?" Summer gaped at the seemingly perfected construction. "You built this thing from...scratch?" 

"Damn URP straight." 

"Did you go to aviation school?" 

"Seriously, Summer? You're asking me about fucking 'aviation school'? I thought I told you: I'm a genius," Rick snapped, and she fell silent. "And if you were a genius, you'd realize school isn't for everybody. I didn't need anybody telling me what to do. I never did and I never will." 

"...I'm sorry," Summer whispered, backing up towards the door. She hadn't meant to say anything mean. Maybe she wasn't a "genius" but she knew school was important. She knew a lot more than people gave her credit for. 

"Guess you got some more of your Dad's genes than I thought." He seemed to be thinking out loud now; he was talking as though she weren't even in the room. "Unfortunate really, what society does to smart people. Your Mom wanted to be a heart surgeon. Last I heard she worked on horses because it was convenient for the rest of you---" 

"STOP IT!" Summer bellowed at the top of her lungs, unable to listen any longer. To her surprise he did stop, but she didn't care anymore what he had to say, even if it was an apology. She couldn't listen to some stranger---even if he was flesh and blood---go on and on about her dead parents as if he knew them. "You're an asshole," she hissed. "My parents are dead." 

"He was driving wasn't he." 

"WHAT?" Summer blinked. 

"The one who was driving. Had to be Jerry, right? Lousy sonOFabitch deadbeat dad---" 

"FUCK," Summer shouted, "YOU."

She didn't wait for a response. Instead she covered her ears and ran out of the room. She ran all the way upstairs, where she slammed the door and locked it shut. 

She shut off the light, so that she was surrounded by nothing but darkness and silence. There was no knock on the door, but she didn't care. She was glad. No wonder her mother never talked about her grandfather. He was an asshole. No wonder she'd wanted Summer to think he was dead. 

She lay on her bed for a long time, not moving. She didn't cry; there were no more tears left to shed. She just lay there, in a fetal position, hugging the unicorn, and thinking of her mom, and dad, and Morty. 

He never came to check up on her. Which was just as well. She didn't want to talk to him, then, or ever again. As far as she was concerned, she was on her own now. She might as well be living with a stranger. 

I'm sorry Mom, she whispered. I wish I was as smart as you.


	3. Three

As far as Rick Sanchez was concerned, women were an anomaly. He could understand everything under the sun except the psyche of a female brain. If there was anything he couldn't wrap his genius brain around, it was how a smart woman like his daughter Beth had married an empty-headed sack like Jerry. 

It seemed their daughter wasn't as dumb or pig-headed as he'd expected. She could clearly think for herself, but she also had a smart mouth; secretly, he was impressed. You raised her well, Beth. Looking around the garage, he shook himself a little of his reverie. This Beth is not your Beth, he told himself. This Summer does not belong to you. 

It was better than the alternative, he supposed. It was actually a surprising act of sympathy to place him in this position. For what he'd done, it was the most lenient course of action that the Council of Ricks could have concocted for a justifiable punishment. 

_Those sick bastards knew what they were getting me into._

He was completely out of his depth with looking after a teenaged girl. At least before, he at least understood what it was like to be a hormone-ravaged male, lusting after the opposite sex. This time, he was dealing with a whole new dynamic. He hadn't been there for Beth's adolescence. That was both a blessing and a curse, because he'd probably have fucked it up; but, if he'd been there, she might not have married Jerry. 

He hadn't expected her to be so headstrong that she'd go to bed without having dinner just to spite him. 

Just like her mother, Rick thought, almost proudly. He left the half empty pizza box by her door and retired to bed early. 

This will be easy, Rick told himself as he lay in bed that night on his makeshift cot in the spare bedroom. She wouldn't want to go back into the System. If she doesn't listen, that's what will happen. She knows it just as well as I do. She's going to have to do whatever I say. 

Even as he thought the words, he couldn't entirely convince himself. Stupid human monkey brain. It took him longer than usual to fall asleep.

When he woke, the house was eerily silent. Still groggy and partially hungover, he stumbled his way down to the kitchen. "Summer?" He looked around. No Summer. He headed straight upstairs to her room. He went in without knocking. "Summer?" 

Her bed was empty. 

"Summer?" Rick quickly checked all other rooms. They were equally hollow and silent. "DAMMIT!" Rick swore under his breath as he bounded downstairs. Immediately he whipped out the Locator device from his workstation and plugged in the coordinates and request. Immediately, a hologram of a trajectory map appeared, with a moving dot---Summer. She wasn't home, as he'd suspected. The dot was fast approaching the town cemetery. 

"FUCK." Rick tossed the Locator away in a corner and promptly grabbed the portal gun. In the blink of an eye, he was standing in the middle of Rose Hill Cemetery. A short distance away from him sat Summer, cross-legged, in front of three closely plotted graves. There was a backpack lying next to her on the ground. It was well packed, and clearly not with textbooks for taking off to school. Fuck, thought Rick upon realization. Damn kid wastes no time at leaving without a measly goodbye. 

Wordlessly, he took a seat on the grass beside her. 

At first she didn't acknowledge his presence. She simply continued to stare forward at the graves. Rick did the same. There in the granite were the names he'd dreaded to see: Elizabeth Sanchez Smith, 1989-2012. It made him feel slightly sick to his stomach. Even more sickening was the words: Mortimer Lucas Smith; followed by: 1989-2012. He didn't bother reading the birth and death dates on Jerry's, which was right next to Beth's. Sitting slightly apart from the others, the smaller grave looked lost.

"What do you want." It wasn't a question that expected an answer. 

Rick took a short ceremonial swig from his flask. He chose not to answer. 

"I don't remember inviting you," Summer spoke flatly without turning her head. 

"This is a free country SUMmer." 

"Even here," Summer mumbled. "Even here, you're a dick." She wasn't mincing words, he noted. Good on her. 

"So you're taking off, huh?" He tossed the remaining contents of his flask down his throat, but not without pouring a few drops on Beth's grave. For you, sweetie, he said to the ground silently. 

"Lucky for you." He could feel the heat of anger radiating towards him even as she didn't move a muscle. 

"Too bad," he remarked simply. 

"Yeah right," Summer snorted, picking absently at the ground. 

"Seriously," Rick shrugged. "For anyone to miss out on their first time at Blipz 'n' Chitz? That's a real damn cryUGHing shame." 

"What's… 'Blipz 'n' Chitz'?" At the sound of the name, Summer could no longer feign disinterest. "Also...how did you know where I was?" 

"Guess you'll just have to stick around to find out," Rick grinned at her with a mischievous and mysterious wink. 

Summer simply rolled her eyes, unimpressed. "Really Grandpa," she pressed, "how did you know where to find me?" 

"Didn't you know?" Rick sneered at her, tapping his temple. "I'm omniscient." 

Summer rolled her eyes. However, she was silent for a time; he could see she was turning the concept over in her mind. Finally, she turned to face him. "It's kinda rude to spy on people, Grandpa." 

"It's also URP rude to leave before breakfast without even aNURP note." 

"Seriously?" Summer groaned with annoyance. "It's not like I'm committing suicide." She stood up then, brushing the dirt and grass from her knees. "I was just going to the cemetery before going to school. Jesus! It's not a crime." She glared at him. "You know what is a crime? Not going to your own daughter's funeral." 

God, he needed another drink to deal with this. "I had my reasons." It was a lame response and he knew it just as well as she did. 

"Oh really?" Summer replied dryly. "You mean like the same reason why you ran out on Mom to begin with? And why she wanted us to think you were dead?" 

"Hey you know nothing about it!" He was on his feet now, barely keeping his balance. Thankfully the liquor was beginning to metabolize in his system, or he might have smacked her across the face without thinking. 

"I know enough," Summer spat. 

"You don't know shit!" he snapped, already completely livid and barely able to contain himself. 

"I know when someone's being an asshole." Glaring darkly at him, Summer pulled on the backpack. "I also know when I'm just wasting my time." 

"Summer---" 

"Go and bullshit to somebody else then," Summer snapped as she stalked out of the cemetery, leaving him in the dust. 

"FINE---maybe I will!" he shouted after her at the top of his lungs. "And you can go have a blast having your little playdates at the orphanage!" As soon as the words fell from his lips, he regretted it. 

Whether she heard him or not, Summer didn't look back. 

Rick heard the gate of the cemetery slam shut, echoing loudly in the eerie quiet--leaving him alone with his thoughts, and three graves in a seemingly endless sea of stones. There was nothing left to say or do. He couldn't say "I'm sorry"; it was much too late for that. The damage was already done. This wasn't even his original family. This Morty hadn't even met him; he probably didn't even know his name. Regardless, they were dead, just like the others. Rick didn't believe in an afterlife. He didn't even believe in God. 

Yet for some reason he found himself talking to empty space. "Well...um…" He kicked at the ground by his feet, not sure what else to say or do. "...See ya," he muttered eventually to the three graves with a shrug. 

Any other time, he would have used his portal gun right then and there. Except, if he did, he would be a wanted man. He'd used up his quota; this was his last slot for potentially redeeming himself---if that was even possible for the Rick Sanchezes of the Multiverse. 

Instead, he portaled himself back to the Smith house, where he got himself good and drunk until he passed out with oblivion.

*****

Summer had planned to go to school after the cemetery. 

Instead, she was so mad that she took the city bus uptown. She went to the public library, where she sometimes went when she had nothing else to do, or she needed an escape from the "real world". 

Right now, she could care less about what the real world had to say. 

For the rest of the day, she spent hours reading fashion magazines and fooling around on the library computer. There was a guy she was chatting with online. His name was Alex. Even though they'd never met in person, she had a serious crush on him, and hadn't gotten to tell him much about her life since the awful "It" happened. 

Thankfully he responded right away when she sent him a heart emoticon. 

Alex: How ya doin girl? 

Summer: I hate my life. 

Alex: What's goin on, Beautiful? 

Summer: I don't know who to talk to about anything right now. And there's just so much to talk about. 

Alex: Dish it girl. Let's talk. 

Summer: I just met my grandpa for the first time. He's...taking care of me….But he's kind of an asshole. 

Alex: Did he hurt you, Babe? I'll kick his bony ass. 

Summer: No, he's not really abusive or anything like that. He's just a dick a lot of the time. I don't really know him yet but already I don't even like him. But I have no choice but to live with him. 

Alex: That's a bummer girl. Serious. Family sucks. 

Summer: Yeah, family sucks. 

She immediately regretted the words, but there was no taking them back; she couldn't delete a chat response. Would her parents hate her for saying it? Would Morty? Morty….He'd only been thirteen years old. He'd never even gotten to experience his first kiss with a girl...or go on a date even. Summer wasn't sure he'd even ever been in love. 

She hadn't realized she had tears falling until the chat screen sounded.  
Alex was trying to get her attention. Summer quickly wiped away her tears. 

Alex: You there, girl? Where'd you go? 

Summer: Sorry. Allergies are making me sneeze. 

Alex: I hear ya girl! Try Zyrtec or some shit. 

Summer laughed out loud at that, momentarily forgetting she was in a library; the nearest patron's dirty look in her direction was enough to remind her, and she quickly shut up. 

Summer: When are you coming north? (It took all the courage she had to muster the energy.) 

Alex: Oh, not until the holidays, probably. I'll hit you up. That cool? 

Summer: Sure. I don't have a new cell phone yet. Here's hoping this Christmas. 

(Of course, that was a pipe dream and she knew it; Rick might be rich, but she could already tell he wasn't the giving type.) It made her miss her father terribly; he always loved the holidays. Christmas was his favorite. 

Alex: Sounds good Babe. Talk soon. Later Alligator!

Summer: Afterwhile, Crocodile! 

This was what they always said to each other at the end of chat. Satisfied, and renewed with a kind of hope she hadn't felt in ages, Summer logged off and went to read another magazine in her favorite chair. For the rest of the school day, she fantasized about becoming a fashion queen and dreamt about meeting Alex. 

When she did come home, she found the front door unlocked and the TV in the living room blaring. Some strange show about some guy named "Ants In My Eyes Johnson" was going on and on and on about selling furniture. With a groan, she shut off the TV and turned to glare at Rick, who, unbeknownst to her, was out cold, lying half-on and half-off the couch. He'd clearly gone on a bender; the entire room stank of alcohol, and not even just one kind. There were several beer cans strewn about as before. A half-eaten piece of pizza hung over the side of the couch, dripping extra sauce and cheese on the floor. 

"Jesus, Grandpa," Summer muttered, knowing full well he couldn't hear a thing. "You are such a pig!" Before he woke up, she gathered all the garbage. Then she came back with a full glass of water---and, without hesitation, splashed it directly in his face. 

It didn't take long to wake the beast. Rick exploded hollering bloody murder. "Jesus JUMPIN JEHOSAFATS---WHAT the FUCK IS THIS!?!" he screamed, flailing about wildly on the couch, and falling off entirely in the process. "The flying freaking FUCK, Summer!?! You trying to give me a heart attack or something!?!" 

"Serves you right," Summer replied simply. There was something immensely satisfying about watching him flail about like a fish out of water. Instead of waiting for a response, she turned and left him there on the floor to pick himself up. However, this time, she didn't leave without taking one of the pizza slices with her first. All that riding around and reading had made her hungry. 

To her surprise, Rick didn't try to stop her. For the rest of the night, they both kept entirely to themselves and busied themselves with their own evening rituals. 

She was okay with that. After trying so long to avoid it, Summer finally welcomed the silence.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________

**FYI:** Personally, I don't condone Summer's skipping school to chat with a boy she barely knows. However, this is what I saw her character doing in this incident. Unfortunately a lot of times, in the real world, situations like this do not end well and can have tragic outcomes. Online solicitation is a very real thing that can ruin lives. Sorry to sound like an infomercial. In this story, thankfully, Summer is in good hands. She's taking a real risk though. Be careful who you speak with online! It's good to have fun, but please do so responsibly.


	4. Four

As if things weren't already awkward enough, it only got progressively worse. 

The next morning Rick opened the door to the bathroom, only to be greeted with a series of uncontrollably loud shrieks he'd only thought mythical sirens could make. There was Summer, standing naked from head to toe; she'd just gotten out of the shower and hadn't had time to get dressed. 

"SHIT," Rick swore loudly. It took a lot to make him blush, but he was positively certain he was blushing, which he hated with every fiber of his being. "S-sorry---" he managed to blurt out, feeling like a fool (which for him was a feat). Not sure what to say, he backed uneasily towards the door, trying as hard as he could not to make eye contact. 

"GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!" Summer bellowed, covering herself as best she could, her face red with rage. "Don't fucking stare at me! You fucking PERVERT!"

"I-I--" He couldn't stop staring. He didn't want to, but he couldn't help himself. She was absolutely beautiful. A product of Jerry no less. 

He never would do anything; she was his granddaughter. Even so, he couldn't help but be impressed with how healthy she looked and how well she'd grown. 

Meanwhile Summer's eyes were widening by the second with horror at his hesitation. "GET the hell OUT!" she finally shrieked at the top of her lungs. 

Trying hard not to make any eye contact, Rick did the only decent thing he could do---he threw a towel over her shoulders. Glaring daggers, Summer grabbed it as quickly as possible. While she was surprised by the unexpected act of kindness, she was still furious, and she could only tremble silently with rage. "Get dressed," he told her simply. And he left without another word. 

Gotta hand it to you Beth, he told himself. You did well with those stupid Smith genes. 

He left an already made, uneaten strawberry Pop-Tart for her on the kitchen counter as a half-assed apology. Even as he did so, he wasn't sure why he bothered to try; it seemed no matter what he did, they were at an impasse. 

A phone call he received mid-afternoon only further cemented this as an unfortunate truth. 

It was the school guidance office. Apparently Summer had gotten into a fight with a girl. They wanted her to go home for the rest of the day. She would have detention for three consecutive days beginning the following afternoon. 

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Rick muttered under his breath. Here he was, in loco parentis, with a teenage girl who he barely knew, but already seemed to completely hate his guts. If Beth were in charge, Summer would have been grounded. He had no problem with enforcing rules, but he knew if he did so, he was only risking further ire. 

Regardless, he portaled himself over to the school. Upon entering the lobby, he found Summer sitting looking dejected in one of the chairs. She was holding an ice pack to her face. "What do you want?" she snapped, glaring darkly up at him. 

Rick had a few choice words prepared and was about to respond, only to be called abruptly by the receptionist. Apparently the guidance counselor wanted to talk with him. Great. Rick despised all authority figures, and guidance counselors were of no exception. 

She was young at least, and a beautiful redhead to boot. Extending her hand to him, she introduced herself as Marcia Hernandez. "You must be the elder Mr. Smith," she said as she continued to hold out her hand; Rick bristled at the name. 

"Sanchez," he snapped stiffly, without accepting the handshake; he brushed past her and into the room. 

"Really?" Ms. Hernandez smiled warmly at him. "I didn't realize Beth was part Hispanic. What country is your family originally from?" 

Rick didn't offer a response to that. He simply took a seat, eager to get the meeting over with. 

"Mr. Sanchez---" 

"Rick," he cut her off abruptly, giving her a pointed stare. 

Ms. Hernandez smiled at that and nodded. "Okay. Rick. Thank you for coming in." 

"Did I have a fucking choice?" The moment the words left his lips Rick knew he'd made a mistake. Ms. Hernandez was staring at him with bewildered astonishment. "Fuck. I didn't mean…" He buried his face in his hands, suddenly exhausted and completely self-conscious. "This whole thing is a fucking mess." 

Mrs. Hernandez didn't respond at first. However, he was very aware of her eyes on him, observing him carefully; a thing which he positively detested. He wanted to leave, but he knew it would only make things worse. He had to tread carefully; the last thing he wanted was Social Services to come knocking on their door. 

"I can see you're a little out of your depth," she remarked suddenly. She said the words with such calculation and calmness that he laughed out loud in spite of himself. "What's funny?" she asked. 

"You're not going to psycho fucking analyze me," he demanded crossly, "are you? Because I definitely didn't sign up for that either." 

"Mr. Sanchez," she asked, in that same aggravatingly calm manner.  
"Are you by any chance seeking grief counseling?" 

"Aren't you supposed to be talking to me about Summer?" Rick retorted with barely restrained irritation. "If I had realized I was getting called in for a fucking therapy session I would have---" 

"Please refrain from swearing in my office, Mr. Sanchez---"

"RICK," he barked, unable to contain himself. 

"Rick…" Ms. Hernandez continued to stare closely at him. "Please keep in mind that Summer has had an incredibly difficult year---" 

"You think?" His words dripped with sarcasm but she chose to ignore it. 

"Right now Summer is desperately in need of authoritative guidance." 

"Isn't that what you're supposed to give her?" 

"I would highly suggest you both attend both grief and family counseling," she continued in spite of his annoyance. "This is a very precarious time. She is a growing teenage girl who has just suffered a major loss---" 

"No fucking shit Sherlock." He was being an ass and he knew it. 

"I would also suggest you take some of my pamphlets on parenting---" 

"Forget it," Rick snapped, shocking her into silence. "We're done here," he added darkly, standing up abruptly and heading for the door. "And don't you worry your pretty little, little head over Summer," he added pointedly over his shoulder. "She's a---she's a tough kid." He paused for a moment, thinking over his next words carefully. "She's gonna be fucking fine."

"Mr. Sanchez---" 

He didn't bother to correct her that time. Instead, he simply stalked out of the room, shutting the door behind him with a slam. 

Both the receptionist---as well as Summer---jumped at the sound of the door and his feet fast approaching. "Come on," he ordered to her thickly, "we're going home." When she saw the look on his face, she knew better than to object. She'd rather have been anywhere than there. 

He knew all eyes were on them, so he called a cab instead of using the portal gun back home to avoid any questions. 

They rode the entire way in silence.

********** 

Rick wasn't the type to give lectures. Yes, he ranted every now and then, but he didn't lecture. So when, after wordlessly handing Summer a new pack of ice for what would most definitely become a shiner, Summer declared stiffly, "Look Grandpa...I don't want to talk about it." 

"That's good," Rick returned just as stiffly, "because I don't want to think about it. Also Summer: you're totally fucking grounded forever, for getting us both of us into this mess." 

"Are you fucking KIDDING me?" Summer, in complete frustration, tossed the ice pack across the kitchen counter. "You're _grounding_ me!?! You don't even know what the fight was ABOUT, Grandpa!" 

"Enough with the stupid 'Grandpa' bullshit, Summer!" Rick, unable to keep himself quiet any longer, whirled around and yelled at the top of his lungs. "I told you---I don't like labels!" 

"Well I don't like some stranger coming into MY life and telling ME what to do!" Summer bellowed at the top of hers. She was completely fed up now, and her right cheekbone was killing her. That bitch would get what was coming as soon as she had the opportunity.

"You think I LIKE being in this position, SUMMER!?!" In his frustration, Rick turned and kicked the garbage can---hard. Hard enough for him to bend over writhing in pain. As if that wasn't enough, the entire garbage can had tipped over, its contents spilling everywhere. 

"Great job, Grand-PA." Summer snickered in amusement and disgust. She knew she was being cruel but right then, she could have cared less. "Guess you're not as tough as you think you are." 

"And you're not as smart as you think you are!" Rick snapped, knowing he was being harsh. But at that moment, he would rather have been anywhere else with anyone else. He was tired of this unwelcomed and undesired responsibility. He would have given anything to go back, back to the way things were….

"How do you know I'm not smart? You don't even KNOW me." Summer looked darkly over her shoulder with as much hatred as she could muster before bending down to pick up the trash.

"It doesn't take a genius to know you, Summer," Rick glowered back just as darkly. "You're a stuck-up, smart-mouthed, self-involved BITCH. Thankfully," he added dryly, "I AM a genius. So, I know you a LOT better than you think." 

It took all of Summer's strength not to throw her fist in his face. Instead, she stood on trembling legs and walked slowly over to him, so that they were face to face. "Go," Summer hissed, "To….Hell." 

Rick didn't flinch. He simply stared back at her with visibly exhausted, half-lidded eyes. "Already there, kiddo," he returned with a painfully, exaggeratedly submissive sigh. "I'm already fucking there." 

"UGH!" Completely livid, Summer threw the ice pack in the sink and stormed out of the room. She'd had enough. She was leaving THAT night. She wasn't sure where she was going. But she was certain of one thing: she surely wasn't going back.


	5. Five

Summer kept herself locked in her room for the rest of the day. The last thing she wanted was anything to do with some gross old man, even if it was her only living relative. Thankfully, he seemed to feel the same. She ate the Pop-Tart on the counter she hadn't taken for breakfast while he was busy doing God-knows-what in the garage. 

She waited until she heard the telltale sound of his snores through the pipes (his room was directly beneath the bathroom, where she could usually hear everything). When she was sure the coast was clear, she snuck into the garage. 

He's got to keep that thing around here somewhere, thought Summer. She knew she was about to attempt the impossible---but she was desperate enough now to try. If he did indeed know how to make a portal gun and create a space ship, then she could go anywhere she fucking pleased. 

She'd seen him disappear into the garage with his portal gun tucked deep into the pocket of his lab coat. It didn't take her long to find it. Jesus Grandpa, she chided him silently, For a fucking genius, you're really not all that smart. She'd expected him to keep the portal gun hidden away in a safe. But no, there it was, in plain sight, still tucked inside his lab coat pocket. 

Summer plucked the portal gun and held it in her hands. It looked deceptively simple; almost like a toy---how could something so incredible look so easy to use? A child could learn how to do this, she thought to herself with growing excitement. Without hesitation, she turned the dial on the arm, which caused several sets of seemingly random numbers to appear. Coordinates, Summer realized at once. (See Grandpa? I AM smart!) Suddenly, she wondered where the spaceship was. (Maybe it had all just been a joke---a movie prop he'd hired by someone to make her think he'd built one.) Get a grip, Summer, she told herself. Maybe portal guns are real but there's nothing useful to you in outer space but lots and lots of emptiness. 

Maybe the portal gun could actually bring her someplace cool---like Honolulu. She'd always wanted to go someplace tropical like Hawaii. 

Adjusting the straps on her backpack, Summer gritted her teeth and pulled the trigger. 

Almost immediately, a glowing green portal appeared. Summer stared in shock, hypnotized by the swirling green glow. Incredible, she thought. I just found my ticket to freedom---see ya, Gramps! 

Holding her breath, Summer jumped through….

….only to find herself standing in a mostly vast and empty desert….

...with mountains floating in the air….

….and one...no two...no, four suns in the sky----

"What...the….freaking...hell..." Summer turned slowly around in a circle, completely baffled by the sight surrounding her. The air was hot and humid, and she realized suddenly she hadn't brought any water. The mountains in the distance were just floating there, like something out of a childhood fantasy book. She gaped open-mouthed at the sight---until suddenly, out of nowhere, a high-pitched scream like nothing she'd ever heard before assaulted her ears and made her whirl around with terror. 

There, bounding towards her, was something Summer never expected to see in her life---a gigantic fucking frog, leaping eagerly in her direction with astonishing speed. Its insanely sharp pointed teeth were already dripping thick with blood, and it seemed that she was to be the target for its next meal. 

In a desperate attempt to flee, Summer fell hard to the ground, scraping her knee in the process, which started to bleed. However, she didn't notice and if she had, she probably wouldn't have cared. Dazed and bewildered, she stared in utter shock at the looming creature that was fast gaining speed in its inevitable, eventual descent upon her. "NO!" Summer screamed in a complete panic. "STOP! Please, God, someone HELP ME!"

Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, the frog exploded, bursting like a balloon. Its blood and guts were flying everywhere, some even landing on her---and Summer froze, unable to comprehend what had just happened---before proceeding to turn away and subsequently vomit her guts out.

Even while seeing stars from all the vomiting, Summer grew aware of a shadow blocking out the sun. "Serves you fucking right," a gruff voice declared, the recognition of who the voice's owner was making her head spin. "What the fucking hell Sum-SUMMER?" This time, he pulled her to her feet. Slightly dizzy, she found herself leaning against him for support; to her relief, he let her. "You fucking took my portal gun---it's not a goddamned TOY!" 

"Where…" Summer managed to choke out as she stumbled, almost stepping on his feet in the process. "What is...this place?" 

"Planet Glarbflarp of the Zigzag Galaxy," Rick huffed, his irritation growing like never before. "A place you are to NEVER to visit the fuck AGAIN!" He barked the words as loudly as possible in her face for clarification. Even as he shouted, he propped her up before him, with both hands placed firmly on each shoulder. "Do you UNDERSTAND ME!?!" He shook her a little for exaggerated dramatic effect, but she still seemed completely dazed and barely aware of her surroundings, let alone 

Summer's eyes widened with sudden realization as she looked around. "Holy crap...it's not Earth, isn't it?" 

"BINGO," Rick snapped, making a halfhearted attempt to support her as she leaned hard into his shoulder. "You nearly got yourself a one-way ticket to zero. Congratu-fucking-lations." For a moment he stood aside with his arms crossed, glaring off into the distance, ignoring her. 

Any other time Summer wouldn't have cared; apparently, this was just Rick being Rick. However, this time, she was on an alien planet in some far away galaxy--and the act was like a slap in the face. Summer's eyes filled with tears. Completely and utterly embarrassed, she wiped away at them furiously, but he turned and saw them anyway. 

"Geeze," Rick snorted, sounding unimpressed. "How old are you again? There's your goddamn bookbag," he added, yanking it off the ground with a huff. "What the fuck is even in here? D-did you even bring any water? Jesus. What an amateur." 

"STOP IT!" Summer shouted, tears falling as she watched him pick up the portal gun and examined it carefully for any damages. "I could have just gotten killed, we're not EVEN ON EARTH, and you're STILL being a dick! Don't you care at ALL!?!" 

He paused for a moment, and she could see his entire body tense with rage. She prepared herself for the blow. "Of course I CARE, Summer!" he swung around, now at his complete wit's end. "If I didn't CARE, would I have COME here to this Godforsaken planet to fucking save your ass!?! NO! I didn't THINK so." 

Summer sniffled. "Then why are you angry at me…?" 

"Because you fucking stole my PORTAL GUN, SUMMER!" Rick snatched her arm before she could protest. "Don't EVER fucking do that again!" With his free hand, he materialized a portal in front of them, which he immediately whisked her through, returning her home to safety. 

********

It was surreal, to go from night to day to night again and all in the blink of an eye. She wasn't sure what to make of it. 

At home in the garage, Summer looked down at herself and realized she was bleeding. "Shit," she said, and Rick paused at the door, glancing back at her. "I'm bleeding," Summer muttered. 

Rick groaned with annoyance; all he wanted was to get back to bed. "Hold on," he muttered, and began rummaging around in his cabinets. Almost at once, he produced the salve that he knew would be an immediate solution. Wordlessly he began to apply some to her open wounds. 

"Wh-wh-wh-What's that?" Summer shrank back with fright. 

Rick grunted with both amusement and annoyance. "It's fucking medicine, Summer." 

Summer suddenly felt two years old. "Don't swear at me," she whispered through clenched teeth, as fresh tears sprang to her eyes, unbidden. 

Rick groaned. "Jesus I need a drink," he muttered as he continued to apply the salve. Almost immediately, the wound began to disappear---as if by magic---in front of Summer's eyes! 

"Holy shit," she murmured, staring at the spot. "It's...it's not even there anymore! Grandpa, you're---"

"---'a Genius'?" he smirked, knowingly. "Yeah. We've covered that." He took a nearby unused dustrag and carefully wiped the area clean. "There. Good as new." 

Summer continued to stare down at her healed knee, blinking with surprise. "Th...thank you," she whispered, in awe.

"Don't thank me," Rick shrugged. "Thank the wonders of modern science." With that he headed for the door, but not before pausing at the threshold. "Do me a favor? I-I-I gotta pass the fuck out," he said, as he practically swayed with exhaustion in the doorway. "Get your ass to bed...we've got a trip to make tomorrow." 

"What?" Summer blinked in confusion. "But---you said I'm grounded." 

"Change of---URP---plans," he declared cryptically as he left her standing in the garage. 

"But---" Summer stared after him. "Where are we going?"

"Live a little Summer. It's called the el-element of fucking surprise," he grunted over his shoulder. "Call it a-a-a-lesson in leniency." Instead of saying goodnight, he added, "Shut the light off when you're finished in here, will you?" and shut the door. 

For a moment, Summer stood, speechless. She'd thought for sure she would have been punished far worse than detention. Instead, she was getting a surprise---when she'd just discovered that Earth wasn't the only planet with sentient life. (Intelligent? Now that was another story.) Whatever that thing was, she prayed it wouldn't haunt her dreams. She wasn't too fond of reptiles to begin with. 

Sudden exhaustion came in waves. Summer managed to drag herself up to her room, where she dropped onto her bed, and instantly fell into a deep and, thankfully dreamless, sleep.


End file.
